The Most Dangerous Game
by Flight at Midnight
Summary: A training exercise brings out more than just Roy and Riza's competitive spirits. The rest of Team Mustang just wishes they weren't caught in the cross-fire. Mid-series, funny/fluffy Royai ficlet. Rated for Havoc's dirty mouth.


Roy prowled the perimeter of the area in silence, keeping close to the shadows that the surrounding trees cast in the mid-day sun. The colonel's dark eyes darted around him as he searched for his targets. He repeated their names in his mind once more, each iteration magnifying his need to catch his quarry. _Fuery_. _Breda_. His lips twitched into a fleeting smile as he thought of his most challenging and most critical target—_Hawkeye_.

In the past, Hawkeye and Roy had teamed up with a lucky third member of Team Mustang to dominate the yearly paintball training exercise against the other half of his Team. That is, until this year, when Roy had to open his big goddamn mouth. He grimaced slightly as he recalled the memory.

"_Please_ let me be on Hawkeye's team this time," Havoc had begged his colonel after Roy announced the date of this year's paintball training exercise. Shifting uncomfortably in his chair, he added "I think I still have the bruise on my ass from when she shot me last year."

Hawkeye, not bothering to glance up from her papers, responded coolly. "Well maybe don't get stuck in a bush again."

Havoc, not comforted by Hawkeye's words of advice, looked at Roy imploringly. Roy shrugged. "It's up to whoever's name gets pulled out of the bowl. Also, Hawkeye's team? Don't you mean your fearless colonel's team?"

Breda snorted. "Sure, Sir. Because you're the one pulling all the weight on that team."

Bristling at the comment, Roy couldn't help the irritation that crept into his voice. "If I recall correctly, Lieutenant, I cornered you quite easily two years ago."

At that comment, Hawkeye looked up from her papers to enter the fray. "You seem to be forgetting, Sir, that you fired all your ammo while trying to run him down and needed me to rescue you after Lieutenant Breda realized you were bluffing." Her tone maintained its usual nonchalance, but he could see mischief dancing in her sherry eyes. Damn. Roy hadn't forgotten, but he'd hoped everyone else had.

Roy huffed, the difficulty of tearing his eyes away from the sparkle in her own only fueling his mounting frustration. "All I'm saying is that I would do just fine on a team without Hawkeye." This statement was met by silence from his Team, save a meager cough from Fuery and a canted eyebrow from Hawkeye.

"That sounds like a wager to me," said Havoc, breaking the silence. He grinned and shifted his eyes from a tense Mustang to an amused Hawkeye. "Whaddya say, Hawkeye?"

Hawkeye finally turned from Roy, eyeing Havoc warily. "I don't-"

"Splendid idea, Havoc," Roy interjected, shaking himself from the discomforting spell of Hawkeye's eyes. He grinned cheekily, displaying far more confidence than he felt. "How about, if my team wins, then you treat us all to drinks?"

Hawkeye looked like she was refraining from fulfilling an intense need to roll her eyes. "Sure, Sir." Roy felt the small thrill that he always tried to deny whenever the potential to see Hawkeye outside of work arose. It was a rarity for Hawkeye to join the men of Team Mustang at after-work activities, as she tended to excuse herself by gesturing to all the paperwork still lying on her desk.

Looking thoughtful, Hawkeye proceeded to shatter Roy's jubilance. "But if my team wins, you have to finish all of your paperwork on time for two weeks." Roy's smile faltered, along with the image in his mind of him tipsily leaning against Hawkeye in a dark bar as she looked at him with that maddening sparkle in her eyes.

Despite these high stakes, he faltered only briefly. Although Roy knew he could never address, even directly to himself, how he truly felt for his First Lieutenant—whether for the sake of his dream of becoming Führer or maintaining the delicacy of his relationship with Hawkeye—he couldn't let this opportunity go. These seemingly innocent interactions with Hawkeye outside of work quelled Roy's need for _more_, leaving him somewhat content with the necessity of otherwise keeping Hawkeye at a distance. Besides, he had an ego to protect.

"Deal," he nodded affirmatively at Hawkeye, willing himself this time to ignore that growing sparkle. "Now, to pick teams."

He tried to ignore Havoc's stifled groan as he picked Havoc's and Falman's names out of the bowl.

Over the following week, Roy frequented the shooting range twice a day, arriving to work early and leaving late. However, a single week couldn't quite compensate for the years of sporadic-at-best practice that he'd taken up since graduating from the military academy. In his deepening frustration and unease, he never noticed the sparkling, sherry eyes that watched the Flame Alchemist mutter curses to himself as he clumsily shot at the targets with inexpert hands.

Roy now found himself, pressed against the trees located at the edge of the military's paintball grounds, wishing that he'd finished more paperwork instead of practicing so his punishment for losing wouldn't be quite as bad.

He glanced at the trees surrounding him, tense at the thought of finding the unflappable Hawkeye hiding in their branches. He knew that she would position herself from above to get the best vantage point, playing to her strengths.

In the distance, he heard twigs snap and raised his paintball gun in preparation. Then, a shot rang out.

"Ha, I got you!" Roy heard Breda exclaim, somewhere amongst the trees to the west of him. "You're out, Falman." Falman grumbled something unintelligible in response.

Roy knew this was his chance to get Breda. He had to be cautious, though. Breda's raised voice was sure to attract other members of his team to the scene. He slowly crept towards the voices, making no sound.

Clearly Havoc didn't follow the same thought process as Roy, as Roy soon heard the rustling of bushes and Havoc's wild battle cry as another shot rang out.

"You are DONE Breda! Nyeh nyeh nyeh nyeh," Havoc heckled. Roy crept close to the scene, hiding behind a tree, just in time to see Havoc stick his tongue out childishly at Breda. "At least all the eating you do has given you good practice at eating shi—" The sound of a shot fired from above their heads cut off Havoc's taunts.

"Ouch!" Havoc exclaimed, grabbing his ass. When he pulled his hand away, it was covered in blue paint. "Goddammit, again?"

Roy followed the origin of shot to the treetops behind Havoc, about 400 feet northwest and 30 feet above his hiding spot. Although he couldn't see Hawkeye from his current location, he had an idea of where she was. He grinned. If he was cautious enough, he could surprise and tag her.

From behind, he slowly approached the tree where Hawkeye lay in wait, using Havoc's blustering rant to cover any small noises that he made. "I'm not going to be able to sit right for another year, what the actual hell," he cursed. Roy took his position. He still couldn't see much of Hawkeye from his spot behind her on the ground, but he savored what he could see of her ass and flaxen hair.

He took a deep, quiet breath, willing himself to strike true for once. He took aim with his paintball gun and—

BAM! His red paint splattered across Hawkeye's backside. He began to chuckle in satisfaction, imagining the look on Hawkeye's face, until he heard her voice from behind him.

"Nice shot, Sir." He whirled around and stared, mouth agape, at Hawkeye standing behind him with her gun aimed at his chest. Although her mouth was taut, the sparkle in her eyes shone brighter than ever. Her finger pulled the trigger, causing bright blue paint to spit out from the barrel.

Roy looked down in disbelief at the blooming blue stain on his chest. "I- wha- how -"

Hawkeye allowed herself a small smile as she observed Roy's confusion. "You can come down now, Fuery," she called up to the tree. Roy felt horror replace his confusion as Fuery scampered down the tree, blonde wig now askew. Thinking of how he'd admired Fuery-Hawkeye's ass, he continued to uncharacteristically stammer.

"Tha- that's cheating!" Roy argued with his Lieutenant. He tried to remain indignant and ignore how much he enjoyed the wide, rare smile that splayed across her face. The rest of Team Mustang began gathering around them, splattered in paint and looking as if they were holding back bouts of laughter (except for Havoc, who still groused about his sore rear).

"Respectfully, Colonel, there are no rules against disguises," Hawkeye responded, then turned her eyes to a triumphant-looking Fuery. "And I can't help it if Fuery makes a particularly good me." Fuery turned slightly red at that comment as the rest of Team Mustang snickered.

Hawkeye turned back to Roy. "Now, let's get you cleaned up, back to the office, and started on that paperwork, Sir."

One week later, Roy groaned as he stayed late, yet again, to finish his paperwork. He couldn't say that he was entirely upset about losing the bet, however. Hawkeye had graciously remained with him every late night this week, well after everyone else had left. Tonight was one such night. It wasn't after work drinks, but he nonetheless relished the lingering glances he could cast towards his adjutant without fear of being caught.

Hawkeye stood up from her desk, stretching, and Roy watched her lithe figure through his eyelashes. She walked over to his desk, smiling warmly at him. Roy arched an eyebrow towards her, somewhat taken aback at her openness. "Enjoying my misery?"

"Not at all, Sir," Hawkeye responded, though that sparkle in her eyes said otherwise. "I know how hard you practiced to try to win. Your shot at Fuery was pretty impressive." Roy nearly flushed, thinking of Hawkeye's warm eyes trained on him for days. _Damn. I didn't notice her watching my pitiful shooting practice_.

"Well," he cleared his throat. "I'll have a better shot at you next year, I suppose." He grinned at Hawkeye, looking at her with a fondness that he usually reserved for when she was buried deep in paperwork. "Unless you're not up for the challenge."

He saw Hawkeye's cheeks grow rosy for a split second, eyes darting away from his face. It was only brief, but it made Roy grin even more widely. Hawkeye seemed to think for a second, then looked back at Roy with her sherry eyes alight. "Come on, Sir. Let me buy you that drink. I think you've earned it."

Roy, hardly believing his ears, tried not to look too excited. "Why thank you, Lieutenant. I believe I have." He stood up from his desk, turning his back to Hawkeye as he walked over to his coat. Unable to help himself, he continued. "Just to warn you, though, I'm not a cheap date." He wished he could see the fleeting flush that he knew danced across her face again, but he feared doing something he might regret if he did. So for now, a drink with his Lieutenant, with her sparkling eyes meant only for him, would suffice.


End file.
